Expressing Your Vulnerability Makes You Stronger

Can vulnerability fuel growth and success? Consider the landmark research of psychologist Brené Brown as described in her bookDaring Greatly: How the Courage to Be Vulnerable Transforms the Way We Live, Love, Parent, and Lead. It shows that we thrive in our relationships and careers when we engage deeply in complex, stressful scenarios. Success is about participating proactively in life—not about winning a game or profiting monetarily. “There is no triumph without vulnerability,” she writes.

In my practice as an executive coach, I’ve been inspired by these ideas and have seen them in action. Many of my clients have achieved remarkable success by apologizing for errors, seeking help from competitors, and otherwise expressing vulnerability. Some of my CEO clients have made themselves vulnerable to criticism and failure by focusing less on short-term profits and more on transforming their companies into good corporate citizens and generous employers. They used the coaching in part to implement the character virtues that research shows to be so beneficial.

Workers who allow themselves to be vulnerable to expressing genuine emotion with customers display enhanced attention and performance.

These values have guided my career and, increasingly, other areas of my life where vulnerability can beget success. Here’s a case in point. When I agreed to be head coach of my son’s Little League team, I anticipated a nice break each week from my executive coaching practice. It didn’t cross my mind that coaching a group of 10 year olds in baseball would teach me valuable lessons that I could apply to coaching executives.

Nearing the season’s end, my team—the scrappy Mariners—was facing the mighty White Sox, who were the strongest in the league. In the final inning, the umpire made a controversial call in our favor. The other coach vigorously protested the call on the field —and later with the league commissioner. The remainder of the game played out under a dark cloud. We won, but Little League rules allow the commissioner to determine that a protested game must be replayed from the point in question.

Emotions ran high as we awaited the commissioner’s decision. I was feeling angry about the protest, but also concerned that I (as well as players and parents on our side) was vilifying the other coach. After losing a night of sleep about this, I knew I needed to reframe the situation and think more productively about the incident. I felt vulnerable knowing that we could lose the game and also that I wasn’t handling the situation optimally.

I took some deep breaths and emailed the other coach to apologize for not yet considering his position seriously. By the next evening, we sat together at a local watering hole talking about baseball, family, and other shared values. He explained that his protest was rooted in a concern about preserving the integrity of the game by correctly applying the rules. While I wouldn’t have protested the call myself, I was heartened to learn that his action was principled and reasonable.

By humbling myself with an apology and reaching out to this fellow coach and dad, I realized that I was taking a leadership step that I encourage in my clients. When angry or fearful, step back and be self-reflective. Don’t vilify your boss or co-workers or employees or competitors. Strive to put yourself in the shoes of your perceived adversary. Avoid impulsive statements and actions. Express regret or apology. Gain strength by allowing yourself to be humble and vulnerable.

After the commissioner allowed the protest and replaying of the last inning, the White Sox’s coach graciously offered to drop the protest and concede the win to us. But I worried that this kind of win would be unfulfilling and fundamentally wrong. So I advocated that we finish the game, even though we would risk snatching defeat from the jaws of victory.

We replayed the inning and lost the game. My son was the pitcher who gave up the final run. After he wiped away some tears and I gathered my thoughts, we left the field together proud of how we’d handled the situation. The experience had drawn us closer as father and son—and that in itself was a win. It also allowed me to model for players and parents how vulnerability can solidify core values such as sportsmanship and civility, which ultimately are far more important than wins and losses.

The Mariners had “dared greatly” and lived the season to its fullest, as Brown’s research exhorts us all to do. And I exposed my own vulnerabilities, in exactly the same way that I coach my CEOs to express theirs. I was now positioned to coach even more effectively in the future (I was “promoted” to coach a summer travel team!), and our players were poised to continue growing as young athletes. The Mariners were a winning team because of vulnerability and courage. Those are exactly the personal traits I strive each day to develop in myself, my children, the players I coach on the ball field, and the clients I coach in the C-suite.